


Wayward Angel

by Miratete



Series: The Wayward Series [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/M, Humor, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-12 19:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15347370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miratete/pseuds/Miratete
Summary: -o-o-o-o-o-Worlds collide when Raoul learns a new definition of the word "Sticky."-o-o-o-o-o-





	1. What Are You Doing in my Bed?

Raoul opened his eyes. Something was touching him, and not in an unpleasant way either. It felt like fingers softly plucking at his hair.

In the twilight he could see the hazy shadow of someone kneeling over him on the bed, blue eyes glowing in the way that Tracks' did. Golden biolights haloed the head and ran along some of the limbs. A hand drew away from him and the shadow straightened up.

He was used to Autobots now... perhaps too used to Autobots. Waking up and finding a robot hovering so closely should have raised some concern. But somehow it seemed normal. “Hello,” he said softly, eyes still trying to focus on the visage. And as he woke a little more he realized that he did not know this one. “Who are you?”

He'd been working as a mechanic at the Witwicky garage, which was really just a base for operations in New York city and the surrounding area. It was his first real job, and he'd found the work enjoyable. At first he'd just been repairing mundane, Earth-built cars. But later he'd graduated to making repairs on the Autobots themselves. Part of his salary included a sort-of apartment on an upper loft, which made things interesting. It was just an area set apart by several rows of parts shelves, but it had a bed and a television and some closets in which to stash his few possessions. There was a toilet and shower downstairs, and a kitchen area in the break room. Living at the garage made it nearly impossible to play hooky from work, but it was pretty interesting and he got to meet a lot of giant alien robots. And now he seemed to be meeting one that wasn't giant. It was in his room on the bed with him.

The robot spoke back at him in a language he knew to be Cybertronian, and to his surprise the voice was soft and of a higher pitch than usual. Was this a sparkling? That would explain the small size and apparent curiosity of his visitor. Tracks and Blaster had explained their offspring to him, and when he didn't believe them, they'd shown him their “interfacing equipment.” And he'd just stared, amazed that giant alien robots had giant alien robot dicks, as well as giant alien robot snatches. They'd even offered a demonstration, but that had been too much and he'd said he'd take a raincheck.

“Sorry, I don't speak your language, little guy. Do you speak English?”

The optics peered back quizzically and the child spoke again.

“Sorry. No entiendo. ¿Hablas español?”

When the shadow chirped once more in Cybertronian Raoul sighed. “I wonder why you didn't get the language download. I thought that was pretty standard. I guess you just got here or something.” Raoul reached for the lamp on the bedside table. The garage was dark and silent—Friday night. They'd closed up shop at 3pm. Sparkplug had gone home. Raoul had microwaved a burrito, washed it down with a cheap beer, and then headed up for a long nap before going out to party most of the night with the Bop Crew.

Turning on the light, he made a realization about his visitor.

“A femme!? Oh wow...” he gasped in awe.

He'd never seen a femme before, only having heard of them from the others, and having been shown pictures. She was about his size, perhaps a bit taller, painted white and mustard yellow, and rather slender in appearance. Her alt-mode's plating seemed to mostly hang down her back, though some of it curled up and forward from her shoulders, giving her something of a winged appearance. In fact she did have a certain angelic air about her, what with the sideways orbital crest on her helm rimmed by golden biolights. And had she been gilded? Where many of the other 'bots were silver, she was metallic gold. And her face... even he had to admit she was beautiful. Somehow Cybertronian aesthetics ran along much of the same line as those of his own race.

“You're really pretty. I wonder how you got here?” He left the bed and looked out into the garage. “Hello! Anyone home!?” he called out over the empty room. And after a few seconds of silence: “Hello? Tracks? Anyone?”

No answer.

Raoul turned back to where the femme still sat on his bed looking like an oversized Christmas ornament. “I guess it's just you and me. Could I offer you some oil or something? Energon? Turtle Wax?” he chuckled. And then he realized where her gaze was fixed.

He quickly grabbed the hem of his tee shirt and yanked it down, hiding his little leopard print jockey shorts. It was bad enough that Sparkplug had teased him about them when he'd found a basket of laundry accidentally left out in the break room. But now the first femme he'd ever met was staring at them. “Ah, sorry about that. I'm not used to having visitors about... I just kinda sleep in my... ah.. never mind.” He looked to where he'd tossed his work coveralls, but he didn't really want to put them back on. Friday night. Time to shower and shave and put on his tight black jeans and that purple shirt that always seemed to get the ladies looking his direction.

Bathrobe. His bathrobe was hanging on a hook at the head of the bed.

Trying to keep his tee shirt pulled down he walked back over and went for the robe, trying not to let it bother him that his visitor continued to stare. And as he wondered how would be easiest to pull it on without showing too much he chuckled to himself. Honestly. Did he really need to worry about modesty with some alien robot? Did it matter what he was wearing? Or not wearing? He'd gotten pretty relaxed with Tracks after all. Sometimes the warrior would sit right outside of the curtainless shower cubicle while he used it, just talking to him and even handing him a towel when he switched off the water.

Raoul got his arms into the robe, only to find that she did care what he was wearing. She had slid across the bed to reach him and was pulling at the hem of the shirt, studying the fabric. And then she moved on to the elastic waistband of his jockey shorts.

He stood motionless. Since coming to know Tracks, he'd found it best that when a robot was handling you, your best bet was to just hold still and let him do as he wanted. The Autobots were careful and considerate of the relative fragility of humans. They had yet to drop or harm anyone.

But so much for “take me to your leader” when it came to encounters with alien species. Why not just show them your skivvies? The lack of a shared language was making things very difficult.

And then she pulled the waistband away from his body and stared in at his butt. 

“Ah, honey. I'm not sure you want to be looking at that...” was all Raoul could manage to say. And then she allowed the band to relax back into place before pulling it out again. And then she did it again. Raoul looked over his shoulder to see she was smiling. At least she was smiling. “I guess you've never seen clothes before.”

Suddenly the waistband slipped from her finger and snapped against him. Startled rather than hurt, Raoul gasped and twitched away. “Ow!”

The white femme laughed, her tittering almost musical, and then she said something in Cybertronian again.

Raoul quickly got the rest of the robe around himself, tied the tie securely, shoved his feet into his battered pair of Crocs, and then took her by the hand. “C'mon. Let's go have a drink or something.”

He noted the time on the huge digital clock up on the wall of the main room as they went down the stairs from the loft area. The others were expecting him in an hour and a half.

Raoul led her into the waiting area in the office and sat her on a couch. “Wait here,” he said, hoping his tone of voice and gestures would explain what he wanted. And they did, for when he returned she was still on the couch. “Here. I know where the robots keep the good stuff.”

She smiled when he set down a cup and filled it from a cube of high-grade. And she took it with what was clearly a gracious thank you when he presented it to her.

Raoul watched her sip from the cup—a ceramic coffee mug with an auto parts provider's logo printed on it. She really was pretty, even by human standards. And she did call to mind an angel with her colors and her particular arrangement of alt-mode pieces. Though he wasn't sure what she transformed into. No wheels or thrusters seemed to be part of it. He'd gotten used to looking at the Autobots and figuring out what their alt-modes were. Sometimes he could even identify a make and model. This one... she was completely a mystery. At least she was an Autobot. The red logo on her chest confirmed that.

And then she seemed to notice he wasn't drinking, and so took the cube on the table, filled the cup, and tried to hand it to him.

Raoul realized immediately that she was trying to be kind or at least social. And so he tried to explain what would happen if he drank it by pushing away the cup and mimicking a dreadful twitching, choking, frazzling death.

She made something of a disappointed sounded whirring.

“Wait. I know. I know where the boss keeps his good stuff.” He popped into the business office, and there tucked out of sight behind the coffee machine was a bottle of Jameson, Sparkplug's pick-me-up for rough days at the garage. He grabbed another coffee mug and returned to the waiting room. As she watched he splashed a little into the mug and sipped it, trying to look like he was enjoying the drink. Whiskey wasn't really his thing, but at least he could stomach it.

Curiousity in her optics again, she moved to sit beside him on his couch and looked into the cup. And then she dipped her finger into it and put the finger into her mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. Raoul was familiar with the way the Autobots tasted and ate things. Inside their oral cavity were hundreds of chemical sensors, and just behind it was a small stomach full of digestive grinders and nanites that would extract whatever minerals and metals were needed from whatever their glossa shunted in. But knowing the how and why of it did nothing to keep him from noticing how sexy a robot could make that tasting process look. And then she took a small sip of the whiskey before handing it back. “Hmm...” was her appraisal.

“Not doing anything for you?”

She answered by picking up her own cup and drinking again.

Raoul had grabbed his phone from the nightstand before heading downstairs to the waiting room, and now he took it from his bathrobe pocket and dialed up Tracks' number.

No answer.

He tried Blaster's number.

No answer.

He tried Red Alert's.

Red Alert picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Raoul. Sit tight. Stay wherever you are. There's nothing going on for sure, but then again there might be. I'll have Tracks call you when the coast is clear.” He hung up without even saying goodbye. That was Red Alert for you.

Raoul sighed and put his phone back into the pocket of his bathrobe. Long range sensors had probably picked something up and the two had been sent to investigate. It happened often enough. But so much for finding out about who the femme was and what she was doing there. Casual communications would be locked down for a while. Had some Autobot just dumped her at the garage and gone off to investigate?

And then the femme was pushing his cup into his hands again. “Thanks, Angel.” And lifting it up to finish the rest of the shot he'd poured he found that she'd refilled it with two. “What? Trying to get me drunk so you can look at my butt again? You are one naughty chica.” He laughed and drank a little of it.

And then his eyes fell on the clock on the wall. He now had one hour to get himself ready and meet the Bop Crew seven blocks away.

He took another swallow of the whiskey and set the cup down. “Angel, I've gotta get ready and go somewhere. You um... you wait here.” He tried the same gestures again, hoping she'd sit tight. He grabbed a random magazine from the coffee table, opened it to a random page, and pushed it into her hands. “Here. Read this. I've gotta get going.” And with that he hurried out of the waiting room.

The shower cubicle was down at the far opposite end of the garage, just off to the side of a much larger shower for the 'bots to use. Raoul turned on the water, stripped, and jumped in when the temperature was right. He ran a razor over his chin and then shampooed his long hair. But as he began to massage the conditioner into his locks he noticed he was no longer alone.

The femme stood just outside the shower stall looking in.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Wayward Angel" continues in Chapter 2: "What Are You Doing in My Shower?"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	2. What Are You Doing in my Shower?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul is having a difficult time of trying to shower and dress for the evening out. The mysterious Autobot femme won't leave him alone. And won't stop touching him either.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Empty dreams can only disappoint  
In a room behind your smile.  
But don't give up  
Don't give up  
You can be lucky in love.  
It gets in your eyes  
It's making you cry

Send me an angel  
Send me an angel  
Right now  
Right now

Lyrics from “Send Me An Angel” by Real Life 

-o-o-o-o-o-

 

“Hey!” Raoul choked and turned to face the wall. Yes, Tracks had watched him shower plenty of times, but this was different. “What are you doing here? I told you to wait in the office.” Little good that had done.

The white femme stepped closer and curiously put her hand into the flow of water, watching it splash over her metal skin.

“Look, Angel, I've got stuff to do tonight. Wanna move along so I can get ready?”

Her hand moved to pinch a curl, heavy with conditioner, off of his shoulder and stare at it. And then she apparently noticed that he'd shaved off his three days of stubble, for she stroked his face inquisitively.

“Yes, I shaved. Ask the others about it when they get back .”

And then she stroked his eyebrows and peered in closely at his eyelashes, obviously fascinated by his hair and unphased by the hot water now falling upon her as she'd stepped right into the shower stall. Again he hated to stop her—she was only studying, apparently quite fascinated by his organic form. Perhaps he was the first human she'd encountered as she was his first femme. And really he didn't want to startle her or do anything that might be interpreted as unkind. That, and that he'd trained himself to freeze when being handled by a robot.

Catching a glimpse of his chest she took his shoulder and turned him about, peering at the sparse fluff across his pecs and the slightly thicker growth between them. Next she stared at the tufts in his armpits... while he tried to keep at least one hand if not both fig-leafed over his crotch.

But damn that skinny little trail of hair on his stomach that led her curiosity down further.

He tensed and squeezed his eyes shut tight as she gently pulled his hands away. “It's just like Tracks... Think of her like you do Tracks... Big old robot...” he told himself quietly. “She's just checking you out... seems to like your hair. Cybertronians don't have hair so it's probably weirding her out or something. Remember? Tracks thought human hair was pretty weird at first.”

He suddenly sucked in a deep breath of air. “But Tracks doesn't touch you there,” he whimpered, finding himself leaning back against the shower wall praying to God and Primus that she'd be done examining him soon. So of course it seemed like hours that she lingered in studying him. How was he going to explain this to Poplock and Rocksteady? 'Sorry I'm late, but one of the Autobots had his girlfriend over for the weekend and she was groping my junk in the shower. Completely not my fault. Can't blame her though.'

“Were you naked?” Poplock would ask.

“Of course I was naked. What? You think I shower with my clothes on?” he would respond.

“Well maybe she just pushed you into the shower,” he'd say in his defense.

And then of course Rocksteady would be like “So she was touching you there. Was she hot?”

And he'd of course say “Well sure if you're into robot chicks. What? You think I'm into robots now just because I'm working for them and hang out with them sometimes? But I'm not. I'd much rather have some nice jiggly human chica with a big pair a' chichi's.”

“Did she have tits?” Poplock would then ask.

“No. She's a robot. What's a robot need tits for?”

“Well maybe just to look nice. She was pretty, right?”

“Well yeah. Nice and shiny...and untouchable. Kinda like when you go past some fancy car dealer and there's some really sweet ride sitting in the window and you know that some guy with way too much money's gonna take it home.” That feeling had been so familiar... until that fateful night he'd repaired and hot wired Tracks.

Rocksteady would probably ask about her lips. He had a thing for girls wearing lipstick.

“Well, they were painted white, 'cause her skin was gold. And she had white eyeshadow too.”

“Gold skin? Like that dead girl in that James Bond movie?”

“Yeah, like that girl. Except a robot and not dead.”

Raoul suddenly broke from his nervous fantasy, only to look down and find that perhaps he did like robot girls. At least part of him seemed awfully interested in robot girls at that moment. And how she was examining him currently was only encouraging that interest.

When she noticed him looking she gazed at him questioningly for a moment before standing and smiling enthusiastically at him. Then she slid her arms around his shoulders and pressed her body against his.

Raoul had watched Powerglide kiss Astoria when she came to visit him at the garage, the cocky jet dropping his mask and pressing metal lips to her skin. He had always wondered what it had felt like. Was the metal soft and pliable? Was it warm? Was it tingly with electrical current? Would it be about as thrilling as being kissed by a toaster? 

And now he knew.

It wasn't like kissing one of his own species, but it was unexpectedly pleasant. The metal lips had a surprising amount of flexibility and give to them, and they moved much as human lips did. No wonder that rich bitch had acted like it was completely normal, even enjoying it with girlish enthusiasm.

“Did she slip you the tongue?” Rocksteady would certainly ask.

Raoul broke the kiss before the femme could even try frenching him.

She smiled at him, seeming quite pleased with their interaction. Then her hand went up to touch his hair again.

“I don't know what you find so interesting about me,” he said in his puzzlement. “I'm just a fairly ordinary human. Though maybe I'm your first.” His lips quirked into an odd smile. “Your first... That just sounds wrong.” His mind suddenly rolled back around to the task at hand, and he turned back to the water, rinsing the conditioner out of his hair. “Sorry, Angel, but I've really gotta get moving. I'm gonna be late already as it is.” 

He hoped that she would notice that he was in a hurry and just step back. But no. She grabbed a wash cloth and was now helping, running it up and down his legs and arms. She even held his hand and went carefully over each finger. If the others returned right now...

Okay. Maybe it wasn't that bad from their point of view. He'd noticed that they often helped each other clean up after a battle or a dusty drive. It went along with the fact that there simply were parts of their own bodies they couldn't reach. The femme was just being helpful, probably not realizing that he could reach every part of himself.

Raoul switched off the water when he was rinsed and stepped out. “Thanks, Angel. You're very sweet,” he said, wrapping his bathtowel around his waist as she watched. And she continued to watch as he hurriedly brushed his teeth and combed back his hair at the sink next to the shower. She followed as he moved hastily back up to his room.

Raoul tried to dress quickly, grabbing a pair of underwear and pulling them on, followed by deodorant and jeans. But when he sat on the bed to put on socks and his good black shoes, the femme was suddenly in his face again, staring and looking him over. “What?”

Her attention moved to the metal hardware closing his jeans.

“Angel please... I'm running late,” he complained as she pushed him back gently to lie on the bed. Her slender hands fussed with the metal button and played with the zipper. “Look, if you want to play dress up, go ahead. I'll get you a different pair of jeans to play with.” It didn't help that she kept nudging against what lay below the fly of his jeans. He tried to sit up, but she held him down, smiling flirtatiously at him. Then she traced his eyebrows with a fingertip before toying with his damp hair.

“You're impossible, you know,” he said with a sigh. “Beautiful, but impossible.”

She kissed him again, and Raoul closed his eyes and let it happen. He was going to have to go through that awkward conversation with Rocksteady and Poplock. He was also going to have to go through some conversation with whomever had abandoned the white femme at the garage without a means of communication or even leaving him a note of explanation.

Raoul didn't open his eyes as she started to stroke the small amount of hair on his chest or run her finger down that thin line of it that lead from his belly button to his crotch. He returned to his mantra of earlier. “Just a robot. Just like Tracks. Just checking you out cause she's never seen a human before. Doesn't know what she's doing.” He tried to ignore the fact that her touch really did feel good. Her fingers were light against his skin and teased in a rather erotic way.

If only she'd been human. If she were he would have said that she knew exactly what she was doing. If that, then he'd probably have never left his bed in the first place on finding her there. The Bop Crew would naturally excuse him if sex had been involved.

Suddenly a bizarre thought hit him. What if she found him attractive? He found her to be—for a robot. Admittedly he found Tracks attractive as well, especially in his alt-mode, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone but himself. Some of the other sports car models were very appealing as well. On seeing Sunstreaker for the first time in his alt-mode he'd found himself fighting an erection. But could or did these Cybertronians even consider a human physically appealing? The way the femme was caressing him now seemed to give that a 'yes' answer. And the way she moved to straddle him, pressing her lips to his once more certainly suggested it. What if she wanted...?

Unspeakable thoughts flooded Raoul's head. What if that was what she wanted? What if she had a thing for alien men? Had this seeming curiosity been an invitation all along?

And... how bad would it be to find out? How much would he regret waking up to realize he'd just banged an Autobot?

Her fingers were tracing the intricate folds of his ears now.

There was one way to find out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Raoul's phone rang from the pocket of his bathrobe, left lying at the foot of the bed. Poplock's ring. He ignored it.

When it rang again he paused for a moment and answered it. “Yes?”

“Dude, where are you? We've been waiting outside the Mugen Nightclub for twenty-five minutes now,” came Poplock's huff.

“I got tied up here at the garage.”

“It's Friday night! Doing what?”

“Doing what? Here. Listen.” He moved the phone to rest on the pillow, where one side of the femme's head was buried into the softness and her arms were curled beneath it.

“Mmm?” she chirped, looking at it perplexedly.

Raoul grabbed her hips again and resumed what he'd been doing when the phone had rung, only faster and with that little wiggle at the top of his stroke that the ladies loved. The femme erupted into giggles and happy-sounding moans. And then he reached beneath them, finding those odd little ridges close to where they were connected and rubbed them firmly, her tone changing from happy-sounding to pleasured-sounding. After a minute, Raoul retrieved his phone. “Well?”

“Uh... she got any friends?” replied Poplock after making a coughing sound.

“Not that I know of. So you two can just have fun without me tonight 'cause I'm having fun without you two tonight.”

“Sure...” said Poplock disappointedly.

“Nite-nite!” Raoul hung up quickly and replaced the phone in his bathrobe pocket. “Sorry about that, Angel.” He shifted a hand and stroked the femme's back beneath the wing-like structures apologetically. “Now where was I?”

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Wayward Angel" continues in Chapter Three: "What Are You Doing In His Bed?"

-o-o-o-o-o-


	3. What Are You Doing in His Bed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul's intimate encounter with the mysterious Autobot comes to a screeching halt, and then Raoul has to explain to Blaster and Tracks that it totally wasn't what it looked like. But the drama isn't over there--the femme's identity is revealed.

-o-o-o-o-o-

If a girl walks in and carves her name in my heart  
I'll turn and run away.  
Everyday we've all been led astray  
It's hard to be lucky in love.  
It gets in your eyes  
It's making you cry

Don't know what to do  
Don't know what to do.  
You're looking for love calling heaven above.  
Send me an angel  
Send me an angel  
Right now  
Right now

Lyrics from “Send Me An Angel” by Real Life

-o-o-o-o-o-

Banging an Autobot definitely went onto the list of things not to regret.

The white and gold femme had been unexpectedly amazing. Not only was she pretty, she was amazingly tight and slippery inside. And while she might have been designed to take a metal spike, human flesh was definitely acceptable to her equipment as well. Though it had taken some getting used to on his part—she seemed to “move inside” as if... well... as if something was gripping and flexing inside of her. If he had to describe it, the best comparison he could come up with would be a series of fingers that flexed about his shaft, tightening and loosening in sequence. Admittedly the first time she'd clenched in on him he'd pulled out in a panic, terrified that an embarrassing trip to the emergency room would follow a painful mangling if not a complete penectomy.

But somehow she'd coaxed him back in and they moved past that, soon coming to understand that their bodies were compatible though dissimilar, and the two hours that followed were nothing but unbridled physical pleasure.

Raoul now lay on his back, feeling wonderfully worn and debauched. He'd made it through three rounds. She'd possibly orgasmed twice that—overloads Tracks and Blaster had called them in their lesson about the Cybertronian birds and bees. Six times she'd seemed to hit some sort of sensory peak.

Right now she sat atop him, luxuriantly gyrating her hips and working what little bit of an erection she had managed to encourage out of him. He doubted she'd be getting any more than that, not without letting him rest a little more first. He'd never been with a girl that had wanted more than two rounds. “Love me?” he asked coyly.

She cocked her head slightly in questioning.

“Yeah. Of course you do. Bet'cha you want to hang out with me on Earth forever now, 'stead 'a going back to Cybertron.” 

She smiled down at him sweetly, her blue eyes glowing softly and one hand drifting playfully over his chest.

He reached up, caught one of her forward wingtips, and pulled her down for more kisses. Kissing she understood even if she didn't speak a word of English or Spanish. She happily pressed her lips to his, warm flexible metal meeting soft pliable flesh.

And then Raoul heard the buzzer that preceded the main garage door opening. The two froze as the rumble and rattle of the huge metal door rolling upwards followed. “Oh jeeze... better zip it up,” he gasped. “Angel, we gotta get up. They're home.” The sound of engines soon filled the garage and the lights over the main bay flickered to life.

But the femme didn't seem to be in any hurry, instead sighing and holding him down for another kiss as he began to squirm.

“C'mon Angel. Let me up!” He managed to wriggle out from beneath her, only to find Tracks and Blaster up at the edge of the loft, looking in at him.

“Raoul! Oh goodness!” was all Tracks managed to say.

Blaster was squawking in Cybertronian at the femme, who was immediately squawking back at him in the same. As Raoul stumbled about trying to find where his jeans had gotten tossed to, the two mechs got involved in a heated conversation with the femme. And then Ironhide and Windcharger were there looking on as well.

The femme finally decided to get out of the bed, and she went over to the railing around the loft, leaned on it casually, and chirped and sputtered at Blaster.

Raoul had just found his jeans when he felt huge hands close around him and pull him out of his room. “Raoul are you all right? Did she hurt you?” Tracks asked worriedly. He quickly moved beneath one of the large overhead lights and began examining the human, stretching out his limbs and studying his skin.

“Whoa! Tracks! Put me down! Let me get my clothes on!” Raoul wailed, feeling humiliated beyond belief.

“I can't believe she did that. Are you all right? Do you need medical attention?”

“Tracks, I'm fine. Just put me down you big perv!”

The blue mech did so and crouched beside him as the human pulled his jeans on. “Raoul, I am so sorry about this. We are so sorry about this. We'd just gotten here when the warnings came in. We didn't want to take Telemetry with us but we had to do something with her. We told her you were here and that you'd be sleeping. But we didn't think that she'd...” Tracks did look genuinely concerned. “Raoul, I am so very sorry. She shouldn't have touched you.”

Raoul turned and blinked at the warrior. “What do you mean? She was fine.”

“She didn't hurt you?”

“Naw. I was a bit nervous at first, but really... ah, wow.” He smiled, the newly made memories coming back to the forefront of his mind.

“But she forced herself on you, didn't she?”

“Forced? Like raped me?”

“Yes? Didn't she? You've made it quite clear on more than one occasion that you've never been interested in that sort of a relationship with a Cybertronian.”

Raoul laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not with you I'm not. Maybe if you were her size and female I might be.”

Tracks looked a little shocked. “So you had relations with her willingly?”

“Well yeah. Wish I'd met some femmes earlier if they're all like that.”

Tracks rose and called to Blaster in Cybertronian, and he and the others turned.

Blaster walked over, crouched down and peered at Raoul. “You agreed to have sex with her? She didn't take advantage of you?”

“Well yeah. Who wouldn't want to get busy with a pretty thing like that?”

For a moment Blaster's mouth crooked into a smile, but then uncrooked back into a serious expression. “And you're okay? She didn't damage you or anything?”

“Naw... might have a few hickeys tomorrow, but that's no biggie.”

“Hickeys?”

“Hickeys... bruises from biting. She got a bit wild at times. What's her name? She doesn't speak English.”

“It's Telemetry. She's my bondmate.”

Raoul's stomach suddenly sank to his feet. “Y-your bondmate? Like... your wife?” he choked.

“Yeah.”

Raoul suddenly regretted everything he'd just done and said. “Madre de Dios... Blaster... I'm... wow. I'm so sorry. I didn't know,” he moaned. And suddenly the femme was at his side, one lithe arm around his waist and leaning on him from behind. And he turned and pulled away from her. “You didn't tell me you were married, or bonded, or whatever,” he huffed at her.

Blaster translated, and Telemetry just smiled cockily, putting her hands on her hips, obviously unfazed.

Raoul wished he could just sink through the concrete floor. “Blaster. I am so sorry. I thought... well, she was... I should'a talked to you guys but she was kissing me and touching me... and... If I'd known...”

Blaster suddenly smirked, and then he stood up and laughed. Then he picked up the relatively tiny femme and cradled her against his faceplate. “You little tramp. What am I going to do with you?” he said happily, and then repeated himself in Cybertronian.

Telemetry giggled and hugged his head, kissing him fondly.

Raoul realized his mouth was hanging open and so closed it.

Blaster moved the white femme onto his shoulder, where she suddenly transformed into … a radar dish array? Her wings unfurled and reshaped themselves into one large dish and several smaller ones. What had been her feet anchored into two slots within an oval ridge in an otherwise flat portion of the communications mech's shoulder. Raoul had wondered about it before but had never asked. The two bars inside the slots had always made for excellent handholds when he'd sat in the same place. Apparently the set up was for her.

“Plugging in and... awwww yeah! Now I can tune in any Top 40 station from here out to the Kuiper Belt! I've missed you, baby.”

“She's... an antenna?” Raoul gaped.

“Best kind they make! Even if she is a naughty girl.” Blaster again repeated himself in Cybertronian for her benefit, at which she laughed, her main dish waggling.

“And she just got here?”

“Yeah. Landed this morning. She'd been off for some repairs on Moon Four when Optimus' mission ended up here and so wasn't with me.”

“For some reason her systems aren't accepting the language downloads. We'll work on that though,” offered Tracks.

“Uh, yeah. Otherwise I'm sure she would have told me she was... bonded to you.” Raoul was still feeling tremendously guilty even though Blaster didn't seem to mind.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” said Blaster, picking up on the human's worry. “Won't be the first time... won't be the last either. We were just concerned that she'd forced you.”

“You're okay with what happened?”

“Sure. I knew what she was like well before we merged.” And then he laughed again. “Our bond's only open at a trickle right now since we've been apart so long, but I guess I now know why I was getting all the good vibes of that kind through it.”

“This... this is really weird, man,” Raoul mumbled.

Tracks crouched and put his hand on the human's back. “Your first Cybertronian. Well congratulations. I suppose if one of us had to break you in, Telemetry's a good choice. Almost exactly your size and not picky about what species she's with.”

“Yeah...”

Tracks chuckled, as did Ironhide and Windcharger, who had come over as well.

“Yeah, congratulations Raoul,” said Ironhide, grinning at him. “Hope ya' had a good time.”

“I guess you're a mech now,” Windcharger chuckled. “One of us.”

“I'm not sure about that...” 

“You did achieve full penetrative copulation and completion, didn't you?” asked the minibot. “I mean, you got your spike all the way in and overloaded, right?” 

Raoul groaned. “Yes.”

Windcharger patted him on the back. “Well then.”

“Just don't go telling everyone. I still feel bad that she's Blaster's.”

The four mechs all looked at each other awkwardly for a moment.

“What?” Raoul asked.

“Ah... we won't tell anyone else,” said Ironhide.

“What did...? Who did you tell?”

“Oh, no one in particular,” said Blaster. “Well hey, let's go fuel up. I'm drained. And I'm calling dibs on the big berth tonight.”

“Figured you would,” smugged Ironhide. “I'll just recharge in my alt-mode tonight.”

Tracks looked down at his human friend. “Maybe Raoul, you would like to go for a drive? The night's still young.”

“Yeah... I could go for that. I need to get something to eat too,” he replied flatly.

“Neutral territory?”

“Yeah. Let me go get dressed the rest of the way.”

-o-o-o-o-o-

Tracks and Raoul sat in a particular parking lot that overlooked a particular beach on Long Island, the place they called 'Neutral Territory.' This was where they came to talk man to mech. No snark. No bickering. No bluffing. No teasing. Heart to heart, or spark to spark as Tracks called it.

Raoul leaned against Tracks' hood nibbling thoughtfully on a ham and swiss on rye obtained at an all-night deli. Across a short expanse of beach grass the moonlight reflected off of the sand and the surf beyond. Farther out, passing ships shone like stars riding the horizon.

Raoul's phone chimed. “Ugh... another one.” He got it out and took a look.

“Who's offering congratulations now?” Tracks asked.

“Someone named Beachcomber. He says... hmmm... I heard about you and Telemetry. Congratulations on your first sexual experience with a Cybertronian. It's good to see everyone getting along so nicely, and I hope that someday everyone will be able to look past their differences and focus on peace and love as you have with her.” Raoul put his phone away with a groan. “He sounds like some hippie freak.”

“At least it wasn't as bad as Optimus' message. You'd think you had won that Nobel Peace Prize given his congratulations,” Tracks consoled.

“Ugh... don't remind me. I'm never going to forgive you and the others for telling everyone. Seriously... that's eleven messages now. Four from guys I don't even know.”

“I know. And I'm still sorry. We were all just kinda enthused that you and Telemetry had made that connection. It's a big deal for us.”

“Did you do the same for Powerglide and that girlfriend of his? The rich girl?”

“As far as we know they haven't.”

“Oh.” He finished the first half of his sandwich and moved on to the second.

“So how did it happen?” Tracks asked after a couple minutes.

Raoul sighed. “It just kinda did. You know how I take a nap before going out Friday nights?”

“Of course.”

“Well I woke up from that and she was in my room there leaning over me. I thought she was one of your sparklings at first, but then I turned on the light and I was like 'hot damn'.”

“Telemetry is a real beauty, isn't she?”

“Yes, and she was just so curious about me. Touching me. Following me around. I left her down in the waiting room and went to shower, and...” He took a deep breath. “She followed me there and was staring at me. So then she gets into the shower with me and is touching me all over, especially my hair.”

“She was asking about your hair.”

“She kept looking at it and playing with it. And then she put her arms around me and started kissing me and I... well... I just stood there.”

“And that's where it started?”

“Almost. I was trying to get dressed for going out and trying to get my jeans on... but then she kept playing with the button and zipper on them. And I just kinda gave up, 'cause she kept bumping against my package and was kissing me, and I was all warm and clean... and... well...”

“The breeding protocols kicked in?”

Raoul laughed. The way they sometimes phrased things... “I guess you could say that.”

“And so how was your first time with a Cybertronian?”

“Honestly? It was amazing. That chica knew what she was doing. Though it freaked me out the first time I stuck it in her. You never told me that you guys move inside. Or is it just the femmes that do that?”

“We all do,” said Tracks, fenders shaking with laughter. “I take it human women don't?”

“They tighten up a bit, but nothing like what she had going on. It was like getting a hand-job from the inside.”

Tracks laughed again. “I'm glad it felt good. Did you get her to overload?”

Raoul finished his sandwich. “I think so. At least she seemed to. She was all buzzing and arching her back and making some weird static noise, and there were sparks even. And then she'd shut down for a couple of minutes before waking back up and starting right back at it. Scared me the first time though.”

“Yes. Definitely an overload,” confirmed Tracks.

“Well in that case I got her to overload six times.”

“Six!? That's impressive for a beginner.” Tracks actually did sound impressed.

“Hey, some guys got the juice, and some don't,” he grinned, feeling a little more confident.

“And you overloaded too?”

“Three times, which isn't bad for a human.”

“I wouldn't know,” said Tracks honestly.

Raoul stuffed the sandwich wrapper into the take-out bag, wadded it up, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. And then he lay back on Tracks' hood, watching the stars above pop in and out of the clouds. “I felt so weird and like some sorta sexual freak at first,” he said quietly. “But then I was like 'I could give up women of my own species if this is what femmes are like'. She was wild and playful and good in bed. And I wasn't going to catch anything from her or get her pregnant. Yeah, she wasn't soft, except for inside, but that didn't bother me as much as I thought it would.” He sighed again and paused his monologue as another car entered the lot, did one circle, and then left. “I knew nothing about her, except that she was an Autobot, and yet I kept thinking that as soon as we could communicate I was going to ask her to be my regular thing while she was on Earth. And once we were talking I might find there was more to her besides being good in bed. She was kinda fun and adorable even before I knew she wanted to sleep with me.”

“You were that taken with her? To consider some sort of formalized relationship?”

“Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “Something about the way she smiled at me and that confident attitude.” He lolled his head to the side to where his cheek touched Tracks' hood. “And then I find out she's Blaster's woman. You guys never told me he had a wife, or a bondmate or whatever you call it. So now I'm feeling like a jerk because I've slept with Mrs. Blaster. But then he's not mad and instead's like 'yeah, she's kinda a slut'. And so now not only is the girl of my dreams married but she's also the faction bicycle.”

“Bicycle? Her alt-mode is a long range communications receiver.”

Raoul explained the euphemism to him.

“I wouldn't say she's that promiscuous. She's just had a number of lovers over time.”

“And now I'm one of that number.”

Tracks vented and composed his thoughts. “Telemetry and Blaster are a great couple, but they aren't completely sexually compatible. I know you humans use the phrase 'size doesn't matter,' but it does for our kind. Physically he's big. She's tiny. It happens a lot with carrier mechs though. They end up falling for one of their symbionts and compromises have to be made.”

“I see. So he tolerates her having other men in her life because of that?”

“That was his compromise, and the idea was that she'd stick to Rewind and Eject, but she hasn't.”

Raoul groaned against Tracks' hood. “Humans included.”

“And, actually... Blaster kinda likes it that way. He absolutely adores her, and he's something of a voyeur, especially when it comes to her.”

Raoul was surprised. “Wait. He likes to watch his wife getting it on with other guys?”

“You could say that. So...” Tracks paused. “You might get approached by either of them for a repeat of tonight. If you got her to overload six times, I can expect them to be interested.”

“So I can do her while he watches?”

“Cameras are fine with him too.” Tracks suddenly shook with a soft laugh. “You did say you liked her enough to want her as a regular thing, didn't you?”

“I did, didn't I?” Raoul sat up, kicked off his shoes, and climbed further up onto Tracks' hood to lie against his windshield. “I never thought working at the garage would get this interesting... or weird.”

“See what happens when you touch strange cars that don't belong to you?”

Raoul grinned. “Crime doesn't pay, does it?” he mused. “I'm surprised that you don't just have some sort of modification or attachments that could take care of this sort of problem.”

“We could back in the old days, but now...” Tracks sighed. “Now we just have to deal with it. Once the war's over and Cybertron's recovered somewhat I'm sure those parts will be available again.

They sat there in silence for some time listening to the hiss of the Atlantic and the occasional airplane overhead. Raoul's phone chimed with yet another message. “Who is it this time?” Tracks asked as Raoul fetched it from his jacket pocket.

“Huffer. Who's that?”

“A miserable little excuse of a minibot, but he's a talented engineer and a loyal Autobot. What's the little whiner say?”

“Raoul, I know the others are all excited about your little stunt, but I would appreciate it that if in future you stuck to your own species. There are four billion women on this planet for you to choose from, so really you don't need to be touching one of ours, who number in only the thousands.” Raoul laughed. “Let me guess. Little guy isn't getting any, is he?”

“Probably not.”

Raoul laughed again. “I suspected that much.”

“Look, Raoul, if you would like me to tell Blaster and Telemetry that you'd not be interested in involving yourself with them, I will. They would completely understand.”

“Hmmm...” Raoul thought for a bit. “You know. I think I could get involved. It's not like I've got anyone in my life that's gonna object. Poplock and Rocksteady wouldn't. I haven't seen my family since I was sixteen. You don't seem to be opposed.”

“I'm not if you're not.”

“I suppose you could tell them that I'm game for being one of her lovers, then.” And then his arms, folded over his chest, now dropped down to touch Tracks' windshield. “Wait... So how do you know so much about Blaster's married life? Don't tell me you like to watch too.”

Tracks chuckled knowingly. “Blaster and I are compatible.”

Raoul moaned. “Aw jeeze Tracks... That's... That's just... Ugh. I had to ask.”

Beneath him Tracks continued to chuckle.

-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-o-o-

The End

-o-o-o-o-o-  
-o-o-o-  
-o-

Transformers and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.


End file.
